Chapter 16: Penelope Cruz

With the media whirlwind regarding Natalie Portman and myself being attacked by my deranged former assistant Julie becoming just a fading news headline, I knew I had to move on and change a few things.

The first of which was that I needed much higher security for the stars and myself. I had been living in a fantasy world when I didn't have any sort of bodyguard or escort for Natalie or myself that fateful night, so I knew I should perhaps look to an outside source for security. After speaking with a few of my stars, many of them recommended either through personal experience or friends that I contact Steve Colt, who ran a security firm for some of the hottest stars in the world. I got his office number and gave him a call while sitting in my office, pouring over some movie contracts.

"This is Steve Colt, head of security, how can I help you?"

"Hi Steve, my name is Dean Simonds and I run Shooting Stars Talent Agency. Your firm came highly recommended to me by many stars, including your wife Bridget. I was wondering if you could help me out by providing security for some of my talent. I'm open of course to negotiation on fees," I said into the phone.

"Ahh, the infamous Dean Simonds who almost ate a bullet a few weeks back," Steve said jokingly into the phone. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened to you and Ms. Portman. I'm sure George Lucas would have sued you into the ground if something had happened to his Queen Amidala,"

I laughed in return. "Don't remind me. The headaches were bad enough dealing with the police and media, I don't even want to think what would have happened if things had been any worse," I said.

"I understand. It's a scary world out there. But all of us here at the firm do our best to prevent that. Since you deal with so many of the celebrities we protect, I'm sure we can arrange some kind of deal," Steve said. "How soon do you need some of our guys around your people and how drastic are we talking?"

"As soon as possible. I think that one, maybe two at the most bodyguards would be sufficient, depending on the star. If it's a big awards ceremony or a public event then we may need to step it up some but otherwise I think one or two will do. The only request I have is that they stay very low key. I believe in holding private conversations and meetings with my stars and as trustworthy as your men are, I still would like to be with them in private. I'm sure you understand," I replied, bouncing my pen on my leg as I thought to myself how sleazy that sounded. Too late now, but I'm sure that he had dealt with people far worse than me.

"Nope, I understand completely. That is our specialty, to let the stars lead private lives. I can fax you over some numbers on a per star basis, etc but since you need to act soon, I'll go ahead and provide someone immediately. Who of your clientele are you meeting with next?" Steve said.

Glancing down at my calendar, I said "Sarah Michelle Gellar? I'm meeting her for lunch next week. Can you have one of your guys there to watch us?"

"Not a problem at all. Like I said, we can work out payment later. It's been nice talking to you but I have to run," Steve said.

"Yea, same with you. Thanks, I'm sure your terms will be agreeable. Talk to you later," I said and heard the click as Steve hung up.

With security taken care of, I set out on my next job - to find a replacement for Julie. The interviewing process started as soon as I hung up the phone and lasted for almost 4 hours. Parading in and out of my office were short, dumpy unattractive women, beautiful right out of school naive college girls and even a few nerdy looking guys who seemed to lack people skills altogether. I had resigned myself to the fact that most of the people who were unemployed were so for a reason. I had no idea Julie was as good as she was, despite having been a complete psychotic. Each interview became a struggle for me as I tried to contain my disgust for some of these people. So with a sigh, I leaned back in my overstuffed leather chair and got ready for the next applicant.

"NEXT!" I shouted from my chair, through the open door to my office. A part of me was amazed though that with these losers applying that I got such a thrill from flat out rejecting them. It was a power I had never felt before because often I had been in their positions.

In walked a gigantic black man. He was at least as tall as I was, probably taller, and built like a football player. His head was shaved bald and his skin was of a lighter hue than the other black applicants who had come in. He had a neatly kempt black goatee and was dressed quite impeccably in a suit and tie that seemed to stretch on his massive body with every breath he took. Despite looking the part, he was clearly quite nervous or dumbfounded or something by my office. He folded and unfolded his resume in his hand absent-mindedly, glancing around the room, his gaze directed towards my wall of award statues that stars from the agency had won and had let me borrow for display.

"Have a seat please," I said to him. This startled him a little bit but he complied and walked over to a chair facing across from me, sinking his hulking massive frame into the chair. He appeared to be awestruck by this whole experience.

"May I see your resume please?" I said to him as he sat dumbly in the chair.

"Huh? Oh, yea yea of course," he said, handing it to me, the three sheets of paper folded in half.

"Thanks," I said, unfolding it and glancing down at it to scan. I was already considering my rejection wording but decided to give him a fair look any ways. "Hmm... Damon Brill. Age 27. From Brooklyn, New York. Well Damon you look at little lost here in L.A. for someone from such a large city.

Damon spoke for the first time.

"No... I mean, no sir, I'm not lost at all. I've lived here for 12 years. I just graduated from USC and saw your ad in the paper and decided to give the job a shot," Damon said. He was soft spoken but his voice was deep and thundered as he spoke like an Olympian God.

"USC huh? You must have graduated with a large class because half of the people who have applied came from there," I said smiling weakly.

"Yes sir. Over 5,000 people this year, up from 3,500 the year before. In my school, the school of business, we had 1,000 people alone. But I'm sure you can see that by the resume," He said, smiling. His teeth were almost a perfect white and there was something about his smile that seemed so trusting and honest. Maybe it was the whole incident from before but I felt safe for some reason when he was in the room. Maybe he just wasn't another loser applicant.

"Yes, I see that. Graduated with honors, a 3.89 GPA. That's quite impressive Damon. Almost too impressive for a job like this. It doesn't pay nearly what you probably could be making you realize," I said to him, testing to see how he would respond to such a negative approach.

"Yes sir, I know. But ever since I was 10 years old I've always dreamed of being around movie stars. That's why me and my mama moved here to L.A. - she wanted to be near them too. I can't act at all and probably should have been a football player but I just don't have the speed. I figure, your company is probably the closest I'm ever going to come to being around famous people," He said, brushing my comment on money off completely. Damon seemed very humble, a rarity out here in Los Angeles, not to mention the fact that he wasn't an actor.

"So you just want to work here, despite the low pay, to follow your dream?" I said, swiveling back in my chair. I had him in my sights now. This question would test his determination and commitment I felt and would decide if he would get the job or not.

"Yes sir, without a doubt. My mama always said to follow your heart; to follow your dream. And this is my dream, even if I won't get paid much to do it. I promise you though Mr. Simonds, that I will be here an hour before the office opens and stay as late as you need me without a single complaint," Damon said, smiling. His nervousness was gone and I realized that I felt like I was talking to a long lost friend just now, hearing him pour his heart out to me. I may have become jaded by the L.A. lifestyle but I wasn't heartless.

"That's very noble Damon. Very noble in deed..." I said, trailing off. I couldn't resist keeping him waiting in anticipation. "Congratulations, you have the job,"

Damon's face lit up like a firework. His already beaming smile grew wider and his eyes shone with excitement.

"Thank you sir, you won't regret it. I promise you," Damon said, leaning across my desk to shake my hand. His hand dwarfed mine considerably but he had a firm handshake, which was always good.

"I might hold you to that Damon," I said with a grin. "Now, when can you start?"

"As soon as you need me sir," Damon said, almost giddy with excitement.

"Good. I need you now. Go out of this office, down the hall and to your right. There is a coffee machine and a food prep area. I have a client coming in any time now and I want to have some fresh drinks and fruit for her, should she need it. If you need any help on how to work the espresso machine, just ask someone. Welcome aboard and please, call me Dean," I said to him.

"Yes sir, I'll get right on it," Damon said with a start, jumping out of the chair and heading down the hall. I couldn't help but grin as he went, excited as a kid on his first day of school.

I smiled as he left and started on some paper work, but it wasn't long before I was interrupted again. A knock on my office door caused me to look up and as the door opened, Penelope Cruz walked in.

A budding starlet, Penelope was already a star in her native Spain and had started on becoming famous here in America. She wasn't very tall, 5'5 maybe and had the body type of a model. Dressed casually in a black baby doll t-shirt and a pair of jeans, her long brown hair swaying over her shoulder as she walked in.

"Dean? I hope I'm not interrupting anything. There wasn't a secretary out there so I just sort of let myself in," Penelope said with a smile, her English dotted with a Spanish accent.

"No of course not Penelope, come on in and have a seat. No, I actually just hired someone to replace Julie now that she... won't be coming back," I said, trailing off a little bit.

"OH! Of course! How silly of me, I forgot about that! I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean to bring it up. I just heard about it the other day because I was in Canada and... I'm sorry, how thoughtless of me," Penelope said apologetically.

"That's alright, I hardly expect my clients to keep up with my personal life," I said with a slight smile.

The door opened again softly and in walked Damon, carrying a pitcher of water and a tray of fresh mango, orange and kiwi slices.

"Mr. Simonds, I mean Dean, I got the fruit you wanted and..." Damon said, stopping suddenly when Penelope turned to look at him. The tray wobbled in his hand and I thought for a second that he was going to drop it.

"Oh, sorry... I umm... didn't know... umm... there was someone in here. I'm sorry!" Damon said in a jumbled sentence, setting the tray on the corner of my desk and backing out quickly.

"Thank you Damon!" I yelled to him as he shut the door quickly.

Penelope turned to me and grinned. "The replacement?" she said laughingly.

"Yeah. How did you guess?" I said with a laugh. "I hired him about two minutes before you got here. He's obviously a little wet behind the ears," I said.

"That's ok. Better innocent than jaded to life out here," Penelope said.

"I suppose so. Now, where were we?" I said to her.

Penelope and I discussed her having a role in a few upcoming and planned sequels from the studios. Nothing A list star material but it might do her career good to be in a blockbuster or two. While we were talking, I couldn't help but stare at her long, shapely legs and firm tummy. Natalie and I had promised to get back together whenever possible but we never said that dating (or fucking in my case) other people was out of the question. So while I tried not to be too obvious about it, Penelope continued to talk.

"Well, you are the agent. If you think one of these roles would be best then I'll trust your judgment," Penelope said with a smile. I wasn't listening to her though and was instead lost in tracing for the millionth time from her petite feet up to where her legs crossed.

"Dean? Are you listening to me? No beleive esto, él estoy mirando fijamente mis piernas!" Penelope muttered to herself.

"I was not!" I said to her with a start. I may have been raised up north but I knew my Spanish. You had to in this town.

"Oh really?" Penelope said slyly. "Then what did I say?"

"You said 'I don't believe this, he is checking out my legs'" I retorted, smiling from the knowledge that I knew exactly what she said.

"Hmm... your high school Spanish paid off," Penelope grinned. "But if you weren't checking out my legs then why were you so distracted?"